


Vietnam

by Tarlan



Category: V (1983)
Genre: Community: smallfandomfest, First Meetings, First Time, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-07-12
Updated: 2008-07-12
Packaged: 2017-10-13 02:49:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,895
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/131993
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tarlan/pseuds/Tarlan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ham Tyler has orders to tail a reporter, Mike Donovan, and find out where he gets his information.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Vietnam

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Deutsch available: [Vietnam (German Version)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/133177) by [Tarlan](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tarlan/pseuds/Tarlan)



> Written for smallfandomfest: Fest03 challenge prompt - V, Tyler/Donovan, Vietnam

Hiding in the shadows was what he did best yet it was a hatred of being overshadowed that had driven him into this life. Ham grimaced as memories rushed back unbidden of forever being second best to his brother. He hated surveillance work; it gave him too much time with nothing to do but think about the past and how it had shaped his present. The reappearance of his prey saved him from another nauseating minute of introspection and Ham smirked as the tall man he was trailing slipped on something no self-respecting person would like to have clinging to the soles of their shoes. The man swore softly, tried to scrape his shoe as best he could and then gave up.

Ham allowed the man to get some way ahead of him before he pulled himself away from the side of the building. With his crew-cut and army fatigues he blended easily among the other soldiers, drawing no attention to himself. He watched as the tall man stopped to chat with a couple of call-girls. They laughed and chattered in their pseudo-English until the man became bored with them and walked away, their seductive cries following him. Ham waited and then carried on after the man, not giving the girls a chance to do more than glance in his direction but they liked what they saw and called after him.

"Hey, soldier. I show you good time..."

His prey stopped again and glanced in both directions along the dirty street. Neon lights flashed out their blunt messages demanding attention, offering bare-breasted girls and sex for a price. Ham tagged himself to the rear of a small group of soldiers who were obviously looking for 'a good time', hiding in plain sight as the tall man's eyes drifted over him.

When his prey had satisfied himself that no-one was following he slipped into an alleyway. Ham dropped back from the small group as they passed the entrance and moved back into the shadows. He was good at his job, honing his skills in a dozen different countries with his ability to pick up languages standing him in good stead. He was good at killing too, though his orders were to simply tail Michael Donovan and find out where he was getting his information.

The reporter had managed to pick up some very interesting facts about operations and casualties that had the CIA suspicious of his allegiance. They considered it anti-American for anyone to report back on the poor state of this particular war, especially as it was fueling anti-Vietnam war propaganda on both sides of the world. Personally, Ham couldn't see the problem with telling the truth, that most of these young kids were little more than cannon fodder, with too many returning home either in a box or as a victim of drugs and STDs.

It wasn't a good war.

Donovan stopped at a door near the far end of the alley and knocked several times in some prearranged signal. The door opened a fraction and a small face peered out. Upon seeing Donovan, the door opened a little wider and Donovan slipped through the gap with a sure-footed grace that had been missing earlier.

The walls between the hovels used by the locals were paper thin so it didn't take a lot of effort to overhear the conversation, and it surprised Ham that Donovan was not interested in the gore and casualty numbers from the latest battle ground. Instead, he wanted to hear the human side of the conflict, the lives lost or ruined, the homes destroyed and the poor American kids who had cried for their mamas before succumbing to their fatal wounds. He learned of prisoners being taken captive to a North Vietnamese camp beside one of the many tributaries in the Mekong delta. The camp was camouflaged from the air and, according to Donovan's source, they held at least a dozen soldiers there in brutal conditions, who were being tortured daily. Donovan paid the man well, even though he had no means of verifying the information gathered.

When Donovan came out of the building, Ham made no attempt to hide but Donovan covered his startlement quickly.

"You heard," he stated, and Ham nodded.

"He's probably lying."

"And what if he isn't?" Donovan tilted his head a fraction, blue eyes piercing Ham's. "I'm going."

Ham didn't pretend to misunderstand. "It's dangerous territory."

"Then send someone with me to check it out."

Ham snorted, his eyes flicking back to the end of the alleyway where a group of young soldiers were passing by noisily. "They won't make it."

"But you would, or are you too much of a hard rock to try?"

Ham stared at the man, seeing the challenge in his eyes and knowing he'd already assessed Ham's character and seen him wanting in some area. Instead of being angry, Ham felt pleased because it meant his hard, cold-blooded killer persona was working. He smirked.

"And maybe you're too much of a bleeding-hearted do-gooder to make it either."

Donovan's eyes narrowed but he smiled. "You can't tell me you want to leave those kids in enemy hands, to be beaten and tortured?"

Ham grimaced. "I'll pass the information up the chain."

"That's not enough."

Ham stepped forward, expecting to intimidate but Donovan didn't back down even an inch. "It's all you'll get."

"Then I'll go alone."

Grinding his teeth, Ham conceded that Donovan was just stupid and dangerous enough to do it. He sighed heavily and nodded, admitting defeat.

****

Twenty hours later, they were dropped fifteen clicks from where the prisoners were being held and moving quietly through the dense undergrowth. Nightfall came quickly and Ham led them to the most secure place he could find in a hollow formed beneath the twisting roots of a large tree. He crawled in and saw confusion on Donovan's face.

"Do I take first watch?"

Ham huffed out a soft, derogatory laugh. "No point. If they find us here, we're as good as dead. Just have to hope I covered our tracks good enough so they don't find us."

It grew cooler beneath the tree as the sun set but Ham dared not light a fire for fear of giving away their position. As it was, he'd already deliberately led Donovan across small rivers and mud banks to remove the American smell from his clothing, hair and body. Fortunately, Donovan had taken to eating Vietnamese cooking rather than indulging in American food so that removed another potentially dangerous scent that could be picked up on the gentlest breeze. Despite the occasional grimace, Donovan had remained strangely stoic throughout it all, as if he had registered and understood the necessity where others, including some so-called CIA operatives, had been known to bitch and moan.

Unfortunately, they'd not had enough time to dry their clothing before nightfall and now it was a little uncomfortable with the damp seeping into skin. Ham removed his jacket, hanging it up where the air could circulate, knowing it would dry by morning. Donovan copied his actions even though it raised goosebumps on his flesh from the cold touching his skin.

"Come here," Ham beckoned and, after a moment's hesitation, Donovan pressed up by Ham's side, sharing Ham's warmth with his own.

For Ham, the feel of another man against him brought back good memories of long nights lost in pleasure; of hips grinding against his ass, of mouths kissing wet and hot and dirty, swallowing moans and cries as he gave himself up to another completely, feeling the heat and hardness of another man's cock sinking deep into his flesh. The hand dropping carefully onto his growing erection made Ham turn his head but only the glint in Donovan's eye gave anything away within the darkness of their small refuge. He stifled a moan as the heel of Donovan's hand pressed down hard against his groin momentarily, bringing the kind of friction he loved. Deft fingers made easy work of his pants, freeing his erection and wrapping tight enough around his cock to hurt so good. He stifled another gasp as an agile thumb brushed over the sensitive head, smearing a droplet of precome.

Ham didn't protest against the mouth that covered his, raising his arms around Donovan's broad shoulders to draw Donovan in tighter, his own fingers busying themselves with zippers and buttons until he had the heat of Donovan's thick, hard cock in his hand.

They brought each other off slowly, with long, sure strokes that brought him to a bone-melting climax, any cries of passion muffled against the other's heated skin or swallowed in open-mouthed kisses.

Afterwards, they sat in silence, wiping the mess from their bodies with moss and leaves and straightening their clothes before Donovan tugged on his arm and drew Ham down to his side. Usually, Ham curled himself around whatever man or woman shared his bed but, this time, he felt the strong arms encircling him instead. He felt Donovan's warm breath against the nape of his neck, stirring the short hairs and he smiled as Donovan planted a soft kiss on the side of his neck before pressing closer still.

"Next time I want to fuck you," Donovan whispered in the darkness, one hand sliding down his flank and over an ass cheek, leaving no doubt of his meaning.

"Next time I might let you," Ham stated softly, and he meant it too.

****

They rose at dawn, stealing down towards the prison camp and assessing the number of guards and prisoners. Most of the prisoners were in cages partially submerged beneath the river to further demoralize the captured soldiers. Ham could see them holding tight to the bamboo bars, trying to keep more of their shabbily dressed and battered bodies out of the leech-filled water.

Donovan held up four fingers, denoting four North Vietnamese guards. Ham had spotted three others aside from the commander who was pacing his bamboo hut. Quietly, Ham made radio contact and Donovan flinched when, suddenly, two of the soldiers disappeared from view, dragged back into the undergrowth. Camouflaged shapes drifted out of the rain forest, silencing more guards.

"You didn't think I'd come alone?" Ham stated, and Donovan looked torn between anger and admiration as an elite team took out the remaining guards and burst in on the commander.

Minutes later, the sound of choppers vibrated through the early morning air and Ham almost laughed aloud as Donovan finally remembered his profession and began to take photos, snapping off shots of the choppers landing, of faceless men freeing prisoners who cried in relief at being saved from their ordeal. While he was preoccupied, Ham drew back towards the dense rain forest, grinning when the larger frame of Chris Faber detached itself from the shadows and stood next to him.

"He did good."

"Yeah... Do-gooder."

Faber slapped him on the shoulder. "You liked him."

Ham remained watching as Donovan was forced onto one of the choppers along with the prisoners he'd helped to save. He could see Donovan looking for someone and knew, instinctively, that it was him.

"Next time," he whispered because he had a strange feeling that, one day, their paths would cross again. For now though, he had a North Vietnamese officer to interrogate, and no one around to care about the Geneva Convention.

END


End file.
